Sweets
by TorachiKatashi
Summary: Kurt must recover after a vicious attack, and has the least likely of help in the process. Finn/Kurt.


My father was sitting at my beside when I finally came to; his eyes were red and puffy, presumably from crying, something I hadn't seen him do in many years. He was still in his work clothes and the smell of grease on him almost overwhelmed the sickeningly clean smell of the hospital room. He must not have even gone home to change.

I don't think he noticed me watching for him for a minute. He was holding onto my hand, almost too tightly, and his eyes were closed. He would never admit it, I'm sure, but I think he was praying. I coughed a bit to get his attention, and I almost wish I hadn't for how hard he hugged me in that instant. He must have realized then how sore I was, because he let me go suddenly and opted for squeezing my hand again.

"Kurt, how are you feeling? Hang on, I'll get the doctor--" Typical Dad, he didn't even give me a chance to answer him and he was already leaning out the door, screaming at the nurses to go find the doctor as though I had flat-lined or something.

I _was_ really sore, though. My right arm was up in a cast as far as my elbow, and my other was covered in bruises, including stitches in a few places. I couldn't see past the bed sheets and hospital gown, but just from squirming a little I could tell the rest of me was in a similar state. God, I must have looked a hot mess.

Dad came storming back in shortly after, doctor in tow. I haven't a clue what he expected the man to do, and I'm pretty sure the doctor didn't knew either. He checked my heart-rate and stuff just to make him happy, then adjusted what I can only assume to be a morphine drip and left again.

He sat back down next to me as soon as we were alone. "Don't worry, bud. I don't care if I have to call the president in, those bastards won't just get away with this." I'm sure even he knew how ridiculous that sounded, but I had little doubt that as soon as he was convinced he could leave the room for ten minutes without me dying, he'd be on the rampage.

"I--" It hurt more to talk than I had expected. _Way_ more. I could feel the tears building up from the sting, and despite Dad's shushing and attempts to calm me down, the realization of the situation hit me like a brick wall when I worked my good hand out of his grasp and felt the set of stitches across my neck and throat. So many, I couldn't even begin to count them. What the hell did they _do_ to me?

The morphine must have knocked me out cold. I don't remember falling asleep, but by the time I woke up again, I had visitors. Mercedes was situated much the same way my father had been previous, chair pulled up as close to the bed as she could manage and holding my hand in both of hers. Rachel, Artie, and Tina were scattered around the small room as well, all with varying degrees of concern on their faces. Dad was nowhere to be seen; he must have taken the opportunity to get on his phone to every government official he could think of.

"How are you feelin', my man?" That again? It isn't entirely evident how I'm feeling?

I'd best get used to it, I suppose, I can expect to be asked that a _lot_ in the next while. All I could do was crack a small smile and shrug my shoulders. I wouldn't dare try to speak again anytime soon.

Mercedes proceeded to fill me in on all the inane happenings of the school day, and I was surprisingly glad to hear them, despite how badly I just wanted to go back to sleep. Anything that distracts me for a little while is a good thing for the time being.

The next week or so went by pretty quickly. I spent most of it sleeping, and there was always someone with me when I was awake. Dad had taken the time off work to stay with me, and after one rather loud argument in the hallway with two men in security uniforms, they moved an extra bed into the room so he could stay overnight. Mercedes made a habit of dropping in to visit after school and keep me company while Dad left to grab a shower at home and such. More of that foolish gossip I love so much – apparently Rachel had stormed out, yet again, after a solo she somehow figured was her God-given right to sing had been given to someone else. I'm sure the look on my face alone showed that I was about as surprised as everyone else was. Forever a little drama queen, it seemed.

Between naps and visits, they had a speech coach coming to visit once a day to help me work on getting my voice back. It hurt like hell at first, but I've been making progress. I can speak for short periods of time now, though my voice is still a bit scratchy.

Everything seemed to follow that schedule for the week, that is, up until that Saturday.

I knew not to expect Mercedes by for the weekend, she had to go out of town with her family to visit her grandmother. That's exactly why I was confused when I heard a knock at the door not even five minutes after my father had left to take care of some quick business at home. I couldn't speak up loud enough to ask who it was, but it didn't matter. My newest guest opened the door and walked right in, closing it behind himself and standing there awkwardly.

"Hey..." Finn didn't come any closer for a few minutes, alternating between staring at his shoes and looking over at me. He didn't have to say anything, my heart was already beating through my chest. I never expected to see him here, I had no reason to. None of the Cheerios or football players from Glee Club had been by, I would probably be more offended if they _had_. But Finn is definitely the one person I had least expected to pay me a visit.

Our last encounter was nothing if not awkward – a poorly planned love confession on my part, weakly disguised as my choice for a ballad, followed by a couple of weeks of trying our best not to make eye-contact.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm sure he's only here after the rest of the club guilted him into doing so. I gestured for him to take a seat next to me, which he did after a moments hesitation.

"Sorry I couldn't make it in to see you sooner. I've been busy." Probably only half a lie; between school, his job, and a pregnant girlfriend, he's been busier than anyone lately, though I'm sure all that just made a convenient excuse to put off having to face me again.

I was looking off to the side when suddenly he was sitting on the edge of my bed, looking down at me with the most serious look I've ever seen him muster.

"Do you know who it was? It had to be guys at school, right?" All I could do was shake my head at him. It would be most logical to say it was guys from school, probably from the football team, but in the end, all I remembered was walking to my car and suddenly getting cracked over the head and waking up here. The doctor tried to fill me on what he could gather had happened from the nature of my injuries, but I didn't want to hear it. If I can go the rest of my life without having nightmares of what happened, then all the better.

I must have zoned out trying to think back on it. Finn had started shaking me to get my attention. It was kind of cute, actually, the way he was chewing his lip and obviously trying to be careful not to hurt me. I couldn't help but smile at him and put my hand over his, though he only let me for a moment before he pulled his hand away.

I think the disappointment must have shown on my face, despite my best efforts to hide it, because all of the sudden, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead in what had to be the longest five seconds of my life.

And yet, it was over way too soon. He had to have hurt himself with how fast he pulled away, and the shade of red in his cheeks could only be rivalled by my own.

"...Sorry. I-- My mom--" He was sputtering, obviously desperate for some way to justify what he just did. I don't know if it helped or just made it work, but I reached over and put my hand back on his. "My mom does that when I'm sick, and it always makes me feel better."

My stomach was doing flips by now – I don't know if it was necessarily _better,_ but it was definitely different from how I'd been feeling an hour ago.

"That's..." I croaked, and had to swallow a few times before I could continue."...Sweet."

Well, things were definitely getting more interesting.

TBC


End file.
